


we can fall (but the fall won't hurt us)

by glim



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Academia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between seminars, paper grading, Friday trips to the grocery store, alternate Thursdays at the library, and the crunch of the fall semester, Arthur and Merlin settle into each other's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can fall (but the fall won't hurt us)

**Author's Note:**

> Semi-reworking of my academic!au series, with Arthur and Merlin as grad student contemporaries. Title from Erin Mckeown's song 'White City.'

"Morgana got her..." Gwen stopped as soon as Merlin shook his head and mouthed 'not now' at her across the graffiti littered table. "... got her paycheck. Just like the rest of us. As it's the second Thursday of the term. And now she's buying drinks. Since... it's Thursday. And we're drinking."

Gwen gave the little frown that made a crease appear between her eyebrows, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and sat down across from Merlin and Arthur. She'd just come from the English department and had the vaguely stressed, exhilarated look on her face that came from a day of teaching and tutoring up at the writing center. More exhilarated than stressed, though, since it was Gwen, and she seemed to know how to get through most days without letting on that half the time she wanted to quit grad school and apply for a job at a Barnes &amp; Noble far, far away from campus.

The frown remained on Gwen's face for a couple more seconds, and she finally just shrugged in reply to the look Merlin was giving her instead of elaborating on the situation.

"So. You're drinking lager? Both of you?" Gwen asked and reached to take a sip from Merlin's glass before he could answer her. "Which is only right and good after having survived another week of the semester. Well, almost. One more day to go."

Merlin gave her a little nod of approval at the change in conversation and Arthur... Arthur just made this little disgruntled sort of sound and scowled down into his glass.

"Yeah, lager. We've been here for a bit. I was at the library for a while, then met Arthur around five."

"Thus the empty pitcher." Gwen glanced at Arthur, and the tiny frown was back for another second, though this time it looked more like a frown of sympathy than one of confusion. "All right, Arthur?"

Arthur continued to stare down into his beer, dejection all over his face, and let out a tight, brief sigh. "I'm all right. Today was long."

"Did you have both your classes today?"

"Both of them, the seminar and English 101. Both courses are full, and most of my students seem decent. The seminar's for English majors, so at least I know they're rather invested." He was dressed in the shirt and tie he'd worn to teach that morning, though Arthur had rolled up his sleeves and his blond hair was mussed. Unlike Gwen, he already looked completely exhausted, and Merlin couldn't resist reaching over to rub his thumb against the back of Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur glanced at him for a moment, smiled briefly, and turned back to contemplating his glass of lager. After another moment, he pressed into the touch, the movement infinitesimal, barely noticeable.

Something small and uncertain shifted inside Merlin, made his stomach feel unsteady and his mouth dry, and he took a drink from his own glass after slipping his hand down the length of Arthur's back. Usually, Arthur was amiable after a couple drinks, and could even be a sort of sloppy, affectionate drunk. There'd been countless visits to this same bar over the summer that had ended with Arthur's arm around Merlin's shoulders, familiar and heavy, tugging Merlin in close until he rested his head against Arthur.

That had been during the summer, though, when the evenings seemed to unwind warm and expansive around them as they sat out on the deck behind the bar or opened up a bottle of wine on the tiny patio at Arthur's apartment.

Now it was fall, already five weeks into the semester, and the days were winding down, cooler and shorter.

And Arthur was sort of miserable this afternoon and probably wouldn't be slipping his arm around Merlin, not here in the pub and not back at his apartment.

Merlin touched Arthur on the shoulder again and switched his half-full pint glass for Arthur's current empty one, and picked up his conversation with Gwen. "Did you get the book I put in your mailbox?"

"Oh, I did, thanks so much. I only need the one chapter. I'll photocopy it later. Hey, you." Gwen's face lit up with one of her warm, bright smiles at the sight of Morgana, another pitcher of lager, and two more glasses. "You look happy."

"I have libations." She pushed a full glass in front of Gwen and leaned in close to kiss Gwen's hair. "Plus, payday. It's virtually the weekend. Which doesn't explain why you look like your life is utter pain and suffering," Morgana added when Arthur refused a refill from the pitcher.

"Maybe my life _is_ pain and suffering."

"Aha. Dissertation chapter revisions? Or have your students finally told you how intimidating you are?"

Arthur was quiet, and both Gwen and Morgana looked to Merlin for clarification.

"Actually... I think, Professor Evans –"

"—didn't like your draft, did he? I suppose this is the wrong time to talk about how my meeting went with him." Morgana's attempts at sympathy really were more of the pour more beer into Arthur's glass rather than pat him on the shoulder variety. As soon as she could, she made sure his glass was full before drinking any from her own. "The version I looked at was decent."

"He hated it. He hates me. My very existence annoys him." Arthur scrubbed the heel of his hand into his eye and drooped back into the booth.

The table was quiet for a minute. In the background, somebody turned a television up louder to broadcast the latest sporting event and somebody else shouted their disapproval. The bar was warm and close; if it hadn't been cool and drizzling outside, they might've chanced sitting out on the deck, and Arthur, whose leg pressed warmly against Merlin's for a second, was probably more than a little put out about having to sit inside.

"He liked that one sentence and even highlighted it for you," Merlin pointed out in his best encouraging, supportive not-at-all teacher like voice. "It was a good sentence. I even liked it and I have no clue what you see in Ben Jonson. Everything will be all right, Arthur. Really."

Arthur slumped into his seat. "There is not enough beer in the world to make it all right, _Merlin_."

"We can try. Here, d'you want me to get another pitcher?"

"Aren't you supposed to be his mentor or something? Not his guide down the path of alcoholism." Not that Morgana could really talk – she'd just refilled both Merlin's and Gwen's glasses and she'd been the one to take Merlin out drinking his very first week at Carlisle.

"Graduate school is all about controlled substance abuse. And I'm his officemate, not his minder. I'll get the next pitcher," Arthur replied and slid out of the booth before Merlin could object. His hand rested on Merlin's back as he stood and that little smile appeared on his face before he walked up to the bar. "Besides, I'm a wonderful mentor. Look at all Merlin's learned during the past year."

Morgana leaned across the table and nudged at Merlin's arm, a secretive expression on her face, her eyes alight and her lips curved into a smile. Her hair, now that she'd pulled it loose from its neat, tight twist, fell like a dark curtain over her pale shoulders as leaned in closer to talk to Merlin. "He's sort of horrible, isn't he?"

Merlin shrugged and peered past Gwen and Morgana to seek out Arthur at the bar. He, Gwen, and Morgana had all been friends for a few years before Merlin had arrived at Carlisle, and he and Morgana had known each other years before that. Merlin supposed that gave Morgana some liberty in declaring Arthur horrible when he was in one of his moods.

"He's all right. When he's not shouting. Or sulking. Or making unreasonable demands of himself and everyone else."

Which much summed up Arthur, at least for Merlin. Really, he was all right – fiercely loyal to his friends, dedicated to his students even when he was in the throes of paper grading and becoming more and more impatient with both his students and himself. Though, honestly, his worst teacher moments weren't as bad as his worst dissertation moments, when he got caught in an unending loop of believing himself either very, very good or very, very bad at what he did.

Also, Arthur wasn't horrible as a mentor-type or an officemate as he could be. He'd been helpful the first week of classes last fall, once he'd realized Merlin wasn't some random first year student wandering around the English department in search of his advisor or professor, but a new grad school looking for his office. Arthur had helped Merlin choose classes for the first semester, and even stopped insulting Merlin's ideas about which Medieval or creative writing seminars he'd wanted to take, and had delivered an incredibly long lecture-cum-rant on parking services before Merlin reminded Arthur he didn't actually own a car.

A situation which had led Arthur to taking Merlin to the grocery store that first week, and then the second week of the semester, and the third, and now they seemed to have a standing date for Friday afternoon food shopping and dinner together. Every week, Merlin sorted coupons and pushed the cart, reminded Arthur he hated shredded wheat cereal and could he please stop fetching boxes of it for the both of them, and frowned when Arthur insisted on paying for their dinner and told Merlin he could cover beer and tip. Arthur called it their weekend tradition of attempting to hold off starvation and desperate singledom. And Merlin... Merlin had no name for it, and just hoped it wouldn't stop any time soon.

In the past year, Merlin had learned that Arthur liked lager, cooking, seventeenth century poetry (especially the metaphysical poets), lacrosse, Tolkien, getting up early on weekends, playing Monopoly, expensive cheese, artsy films, and tee shirts from the Gap. Among other things, of course, but that was the list Merlin could come up with while staring into a circle of condensation on the cracked surface of the table in the bar. He could probably, if asked, come with a bunch of embarrassingly long lists of Arthur-y Things. Foods and movies and books, his favorite old sweatshirts and the music he liked to listen to when he cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings.

Merlin knew Arthur pretty well already. Well enough to know that when Arthur returned to the table with a bunch of glasses along with the pitcher of lager, that he'd gone into one of his odd Merlin-protective modes.

"I brought water, too. Especially for you." Arthur deposited two pitchers and four more glasses and nodded at Merlin in a meaningful manner. "No getting hung-over on a Thursday for you when you have to teach tomorrow morning. I know what you're like after two pints: ludicrously affectionate and unable to function the morning after without vast amounts of that disgusting hippie tea and at least fifteen minutes of self-pitying whining."

And, all right, maybe Arthur was getting to know him pretty well, too. Save the ludicrous affection. That was _all_ inebriated Arthur.

~

"You're still here?" Arthur banged into his office and slumped down into the chair at his desk. "I thought you would've gone home by now."

Merlin shrugged. "Told you I'd stay until this week's round of meetings was over for you."

Arthur slumped down a little further into his chair and loosened his tie. He hadn't even taught today, just had graduate student senate and then his meeting with Dr. Evans. Merlin had once asked if the habitual necktie wearing was some weird form of compensation. Arthur had glared, and, when Merlin's gaze had moved from Arthur's collar to his waist, he'd gone oddly quiet and glared even more before telling Merlin to shut up.

Secretly, Merlin liked the neckties. Liked watching Arthur fix it before class and then loosen it when he finished for the day, liked thinking about him tying it in the bathroom mirror every morning, his hair slightly damp from his post-morning run shower, the scent of skin and steam and aftershave in the tiny room. Liked wondering what it would feel like to tug Arthur close by his necktie...

"I know. I just thought... I know I'm not exactly good company post-advisor meeting. Which went well, I suppose. How was class? Merlin? Are you – you're not listening, are you?"

Merlin snapped himself out of the brief necktie-inspired daydream and gave himself a shake. "What? Yeah. Wait, no, not bad. I think this fall is going better than last year. Um. Is that what you asked about? Teaching?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "Hm, yes. And, well, it does get easier, the teaching. Besides, you're not entirely inept at it. I observed that one class of yours last spring. Come on, you're not really working, are you?"

Merlin ducked his head and pretended to concentrate on the papers on his lap. He was taking the Old English tutorial this fall and, if nothing else, he could certainly beg having to pay more attention to his translation work than to the nudging of Arthur's foot against his.

"How about your meeting? How was that?"

Arthur let out a long, quiet sigh and Merlin heard him shift in his own desk chair to lean over and shut the door to his office. Like anyone in that hallway, comprised of graduate student offices, would be listening in. Yet, it was Arthur, so one had to make allowances. Merlin felt him press his foot against Merlin's again once he settled back in his chair, and they both sat silent for a minute, the press of Merlin's Converse against Arthur's leather, lace up shoe, warm and firm. He nudged Arthur back, with the intention of trying to comfort him, and just ended up thinking that he sort of liked Arthur's shoes, too. Not quite as much as the neckties, but. Yeah. Arthur-ish. Nice.

"It was good. Yeah, good, for a change. Evans still hates that I'm doing Renaissance drama and queer theory, but I should be able to start finish this chapter by the end of the semester."

"That's good, right? You'll be doing the next chapter in the spring, and I'll be writing my master's thesis. We can suffer together, sort of."

"Yeah, sort of. Are you still writing on weird Medieval stuff?"

"Not weird."

"Whatever." Arthur slipped his foot away from Merlin's and slipped his chair closer, until he could peer at the notebook and papers in Merlin's lap. "What inanity are you looking at now?"

That comment merited a long-suffering glare from Merlin. "Selections from the Anglo-Saxon chronicle."

"Hm." Arthur shoved his chair even closer, so that he was practically resting against Merlin's shoulder, and made a thoughtful little noise. It was quiet enough that it was really just a sigh, a tiny 'hmph' that he breathed out through his nose and Merlin wouldn't have been able to hear had Arthur kept his chair at the other desk.

If he'd done that, kept to his own desk and his own neat arrangement of manila folders and neatly arranged textbooks and desk copies, then Merlin wouldn't have found himself with the urge to brush Arthur's hair off his forehead, or the one to lean in and rub his face into Arthur's shoulder and murmur something softer and more comforting than any of the comments he'd offered so far.

Instead, he offered Arthur his copy of _A Guide to Old English_ (6th edition), and let Arthur flip through the poetry selections while Merlin hovered and kept it secret how he noticed the way Arthur had mussed his hair and how he could smell the clean, soapy scent of Arthur's skin and how he found Arthur's profile, the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips, distractingly attractive. His shoes and his neckties and his _nose_.

God. Right. Maybe, possibly, he was sort of fond of Arthur himself, too.

"I don't remember any of this. Don't tell Gaius that, though."

"I won't." Merlin dropped his gaze to Arthur's hand on the book, then to his own hands on the sheaf of papers he held tight so as to stop himself from wanting to trace the line of Arthur's nose or his jaw line. "No need to let everyone know what a slacker you really are underneath that veneer of over-achievement."

"Jerk." Arthur dropped the book back into Merlin's lap, smiled when Merlin yelped in protest, and reached over to cup his palm over Merlin's shoulder. "Come on. We should get lunch and groceries. You'll starve to death if I don't make sure you get fed."

"Whatever. You're just hungry."

Arthur smiled, brilliant and fond, and Merlin's heart thudded painful and sharp in his chest. He pushed the sensation aside, well-aware their strange, intense friendship was worth more than any crush he might've developed on a friend of his.

~

"Scarf," Arthur pointed out before Merlin could get out of his seatbelt. "You'll need it."

"It's not –"

" –it absolutely is. Cold enough." Arthur turned off the car and waited. And waited.

Until Merlin huffed and pulled his scarf around his neck. "It was only chilly this morning."

"Which means it's chilly tonight. Plus, it's already starting to get dark, which means it'll feel colder."

"Look," Merlin pointed out as he grabbed their collection of eco-friendly grocery bags, "if you're the one who's chilly -"

"I'm not."

"Right, right. Here." Merlin tucked the bags under one arm and reached back into the car for Arthur's sweater.

Arthur took in a breath to protest, but quieted when Merlin rubbed his arm a bit; he tugged off his jacket, pulled the sweater on, and put on his jacket once more while Merlin looked on.

~

"No. No," Merlin repeated and waved the coupon envelop at a different box, "the _organic_ sort. It's so much better for you."

"This one?" Arthur gave the box of cereal a skeptical look. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"But you don't even eat this stuff."

"Trust me. I practically grew up in the co-op. No way would my mom let you eat the other sort. Get the organic, then get me oatmeal."

Arthur wavered between his usual shredded wheat and the box Merlin had chosen for him, put the organic cereal into the cart, and continued down the aisle to get the steel-cut oats Merlin wanted. "When did you get so bossy?"

"When you let me push the cart. We should probably talk about the fair trade toothpaste next..."

Arthur just groaned, but Merlin could hear both resignation and a kind of fondness in the sound.

~

Grocery trips tended to progress this way:

Arthur made a list.

Merlin revised the list.

Arthur pretended to get annoyed, but left Merlin's revisions on the list, and pretended to get annoyed in the store, but let Merlin pick out food items for both of them.

Except for the cheese. The expensive European cheeses were Arthur's territory. Merlin had ceded gracefully after a heated debate over brie one late afternoon in the grocery store.

~

Post-grocery trips tended to progress this way:

"Italian?"

"Mm. Chinese?" Merlin leaned against the counter in Arthur's kitchen and watched him refill his fridge. "We had Italian last week."

"Week before. We had Thai last week because _somebody_ insisted they were in dire need of soup."

"Oh. I had a sore throat. Totally needed it."

"At least you were quiet then." Arthur neatly arranged the beverages section of the fridge before turning back to Merlin. "What?"

"Vegetarian Chinese food? Please?"

"You're not even vegetarian."

"But it's so good. Vegetable spring rolls, you love them," Merlin reminded Arthur. "Besides, didn't you have lasagna in the faculty dining room earlier this week with Morgana?"

"Hm. True. All right, but you're definitely paying for beer this week _and_ letting me choose next week."

~

"What happened? I heard the loud crash and Arthur's chorus of profanity, but that's all."

Merlin wiped his hands on his jeans and looked up when Gwen stood next to where he was sitting on the steps behind the English department building. For all that he and Arthur had settled into easy, close, comfortable friendship, their rare arguments tended to be explosive and sudden. "I... Um. I pushed Arthur into his bookshelf of Renaissance texts."

"Oh." Gwen sat quietly with Merlin and was kind enough to not mention how his hands were still shaking a little. "I think he'll recover all right. Morgana once threw the Riverside Milton at him."

"Really? Wait, why?" Actually, everything felt a bit shaky. His hands, his breath, that odd little feeling at the bottom of his stomach. Merlin hated fighting with Arthur. "The big heavy one?"

"Yeah, I don't really know. I think there were continuing a discussion from their seventeenth century lit seminar about the book's footnotes. Early modernists," Gwen said with a sense of helplessness in her voice. There was a smile in her eyes, though, that Merlin knew was all for Morgana, and she slipped an arm around Merlin's waist. "Do you want to talk?"

Merlin shrugged. "Arthur's a prat."

"He has his moments."

"Morgana's not a prat."

"Mm, no, she's not. Not often, anyway. But we fight sometimes, even after having been together for two years."

Of course, the difference there was that Gwen and Morgana were together, whereas he and Arthur were friends, Merlin supposed, though the way he and Arthur talked to each other sometimes indicated they could be more than just that. They went grocery shopping together. And did laundry together. And Merlin had seen the way worry tightened around Arthur's eyes when work wasn't going well, and he'd heard the way his voice got rough and quiet when he talked about his parents, and he'd felt the steady, warm strength of Arthur's arm around his shoulders when he'd been sick or drunk or upset.

Merlin stared down at the steps and watched a few drops of cold rain spatter against the pavement. Soon it would be Thanksgiving, then December, then the semester would finish and winter would really be upon them. "Have you ever met Arthur's father?"

"What? Oh. Sort of. He's Morgana's uncle, you know, so he's been to visit both of them a few times. He's..." Gwen paused to pull her sweater over the thin, yellow blouse she'd worn to work that day. "Different from my dad."

"He sounds different from my mother, too." Not, Merlin thought, that anyone here would know. He didn't have a history here, not yet, not after only a little more than year at this university, with so many of his memories and all of his family left behind across more state lines than he could bear to count right now.

Gwen's arm tightened around Merlin for a moment, and she rubbed up and down his spine a few times before they both turned at the sound of footsteps.

"Hi, Gwen. Are you two talking?" Arthur cleared his throat and kept his hands clasped behind his back, the way he always did when he was hesitating over what to say or think or even feel.

God. How unfair was it that Merlin knew Arthur well enough that he could tell when Arthur was being stupid and struggling when they could just be talking and getting it all over with.

"We were. Did you need anything?"

"I, um. I brought this for Merlin. He doesn't bother to look after himself half the time, so somebody has to," Arthur said by way of explanation and held out the coat Merlin had left upstairs.

Gwen just shook her head and gave Merlin a curious look. "I could stay?"

"Go on. I'll meet you inside and we can get coffee in a little while, all right?"

"All right. I'll be in my office. No, probably in Morgana's. Look for me."

The three of them were awkward with each other for another minute, then Arthur handed Merlin his coat, sat down in the same place Gwen had vacated, and watched dry leaves and the occasional raindrops scutter across the pavement with Merlin for a while. "You're stronger than you look. Which I suppose isn't hard since you look so weedy."

"You really don't stop, do you?" Merlin finally gave into the early autumn chill and pulled on his jacket, keeping his hands tucked into the sleeves until they warmed up. "How's your wrist?"

Arthur flexed his left hand. "I'll probably live. It might be sprained, but not badly."

"Oh. Do you need anything? I could take you to the health center? Or get you an Ace bandage. Or –"

"Or you could stop fussing. Merlin. It's my wrist. If I really wanted to go to the health center, I could walk there on my own perfectly fine. Besides, you're mad at me. You might pitch me down the stairs on the way there."

"Arthur—"

"Wait. No, listen, I was wrong, and I'm sorry for what I said. I have no idea what it's like to think I might not be able to afford to go to college. I shouldn't've said what I did. There's nothing wrong with community colleges or state schools or... or any of your education. I was really being an asshole."

"Yeah. Yeah, you were." A few more drops of cold rain splashed to the ground in front of Merlin and he toed at a crumpled leaf. His chest hurt at the memory of Arthur telling him he'd gotten a cut-rate education and what would he, Merlin, know about expectations, having been raised by an indulgent mother who probably was happy enough he'd graduated from college.

"I was." Arthur glanced at Merlin. "Money, or prestige, they don't mean what I said they did. You're good at what you do. I should remember that more. And you're a good friend to me. A very good friend."

"Well, anyone who puts up with you has to be a decent friend." Merlin hazarded a glance back at Arthur, and shoved his shoulder against Arthur's. "We'll be all right, yeah? As long as you remember to let go of your sense of entitlement."

"Yeah. I... Yes. That."

Arthur crossed his arms and huddled in on himself as the wind picked up and scattered the dry leaves at their feet. He'd fought with his father on the phone before he'd fought with Merlin in their office and the lines around his eyes and mouth told Merlin that he hadn't let go of that tension even if he was willing to revise his ideas about public universities and apologize to Merlin.

"Your mother, she's a teacher, right? Really little kids?"

Merlin looked up at the question to find Arthur staring out at the grey sky and half-bare trees. "Yeah. Kindergarten. Sometimes first or second grade, but most years she teaches kindergarten."

"Hippie school?" Arthur looked back at Merlin for a second and smiled. "I bet she's amazing."

"She kind of is. What you said before..."

"I didn't mean it. I know she was good to you. Raised you to shop at the co-op and drink herbal tea and recycle everything and to be kind to small animals." The wind scraped by again and Arthur shivered. "My father's a lawyer."

"And my mother's a vegetarian. You don't have to be everything your parents thought you might turn out to be."

Temper flared in Arthur's eyes once more and Merlin could feel the prickle under his skin that let him know that if they let it, the argument could flare up again, too. Before slamming Arthur into the bookshelf, he'd had some choice words about Arthur's father and the way he'd managed to fuck Arthur up with his _expectations_ and that he was prouder to have been raised on couscous and thrift store clothing than have a parent like Uther Pendragon checking his report cards.

"Look," Merlin said when Arthur remained quiet and the hard look remained in his eyes, "I'm still sort of mad at you, but I'm sorry I upset you, too, and it's kind of cold out here, so I'm going to go back up to my office. And you should come in soon, okay?"

And he did, a little pink around the eyes and nose from the damp, cool wind outside and a little less tense around the mouth after having been alone for about fifteen minutes. He took the cup of coffee Gwen offered to him and let Merlin wrap up his wrist and even laughed when Morgana claimed Merlin ought to have brained Arthur with one of those heavy books on Renaissance drama.

Part of Merlin still wished he had, as if hitting Arthur over the head would've knocked more sense or sensitivity into him. Another part of Merlin wished he could do the same to Arthur's father. And another, greater part of him, the oddly mixed up part of him that still stung inside from Arthur's words and the same part that kept his fingers on Arthur's wrist to stroke gently long after he'd fastened the bandage as tightly as he could, that part of him wanted to pull Arthur in against his chest and take him, imperfect as he was, as Merlin's own.

~

"Merlin!"

Arms full of handouts and books and pens he snagged from the department office, Merlin turned around to face the voice that called to him from the other end of the corridor. "I'm late already. What?"

"You're always late, I'm sure Gaius is used to it." Arthur took his time heading towards Merlin. "We're going to the library tonight?"

"It is the Thursday of a non-payday week. So, tradition."

Arthur thought for a moment, then nodded. "Tradition, right. I'm sort of exhausted, but if you're going, I'll go, too."

"I'll make sure you get home before bedtime."

Arthur rubbed at his face and gave a brief, hoarse sound that was a cross between a laugh and a cough. "You always do."

One of the books in Merlin's arms threatened to slip and fall. He shifted to rescue it, then nodded when Arthur took it to let him rearrange his papers and handful of pens. Upon closer examination, Arthur actually looked exhausted, sort of crumpled around the edges, and he was starting to sound a little rough.

He half-smiled when Merlin reached out to rest a hand on his arm, leaned into the touch, and kept on smiling, even when Merlin starting to feel bashful about how long they were standing in the hallway, quiet and with an unorganized pile of books and papers the only thing between them.

"Go on," Arthur said, "you have seminar and I have papers to grade."

Merlin nodded and took his book back. They'd been doing that a lot since their episode of physical violence in Arthur's office, touching and gazing and looking altogether foolish at inopportune moments. Half of Merlin's students and were convinced he had a new boyfriend after Arthur brought him coffee right before class two days in a row; the other half probably thought they'd been sleeping together long before that. Even the guy who worked at the bagel shop on campus seemed to think so, what with how many times they bought each other breakfast and how at least one-third of those times started with them bickering who would cover the bill.

It was sort of nice to be thought of as half of a couple that included both him and Arthur. It was nice in that it made Merlin's stomach grow warm for a couple seconds before he realized he couldn't indulge himself in that fantasy.

Not if it meant he have to give up doing coffee and bagels and late night library sessions together, if he had to let go of their grocery shopping and laundromat expeditions; not until he could determine if, maybe, something had really changed, and he could do more than indulge in seconds-long fantasies and half-acknowledged, wandering hopes.

~

Feet propped up on his desk, Merlin started to page through the book Gaius had lent him after class last night and had talked to him about in their meeting this morning. He'd have to photocopy at least two of the chapters, maybe three. Best to do that after lunch when the office wouldn't be busy and nobody would glare at him for occupying the copy machine. Also, he suspected the secretary had not yet forgotten the spectacular paper jam that had coincided with Merlin's first time using the photocopier last September. Perhaps Saturday would be a better day to use the machine, he decided, cringing a little at the memory. It probably would've been all right if the incident with the stapler hadn't happened so soon thereafter.

A knocked sounded three pages into the forward of the book and Merlin smiled to see Gwen standing at the door, peering into his office and holding two cups from the café in the student center.

"Hey. You're not teaching? But, wait, you should be, right?"

"Not today. I've got students coming in for conferences, but not for a while. Here, happy Friday, I brought you the gift of caffeine." Gwen held out a cup of tea to Merlin and returned the smile. "Hope you don't mind it black."

"That's fine. I'm so touched."

"Don't be. They gave me tea when I ordered coffee and just let me keep both." Gwen sat down and took the lid off her coffee. "How was your meeting?"

"It was all right. Gaius read through my paper proposal, so I hope it turns out all right." The meeting had gone well, and Gaius was a good advisor, but thinking about the paper made his stomach twist painfully.

"Which paper is this again? Not the modernism one, obviously." Her coffee was hot enough for Gwen to place it aside for a minute and curl up in the chair opposite Merlin. She had her hair pulled up and was wearing a black cardigan Merlin was sure belonged to Morgana – good evidence she and her girlfriend hadn't spent the non-payday Thursday night at the library. "Or the one on critical theory, since it's for Gaius."

"Um... it's the Henryson paper. With Cressida? And the medieval STDs, I guess."

"Ah. All right, I'm going to be completely supportive and remind you it's a wonderful idea, and that I have no clue what you're writing about. You'll be fine."

"Thanks, Gwen."

She smiled again and leaned in to rub Merlin's shoulder. "Did you and Arthur ever make it home last night after your marathon library session?"

Merlin's stomach twisted again, the feeling familiar and rather less painful. If he managed to get his through his MA program without an ulcer, it would be a miracle. Unfortunately, thinking about Arthur was almost more common than about his degree work and the twist in his stomach when he did was worse. No, not exactly worse, but different, and while Merlin was almost certain he wouldn't make a complete fool out of himself over that seminar paper, he probably would, given the chance, over Arthur.

Arthur, who'd practically fallen asleep in the graduate reading room, who'd given Merlin a sleepy, fond look when Merlin nudged his shoulder to keep him alert, and who'd tried to get Merlin to just stay at his apartment, not because Merlin was exhausted, but because he was.

"Yeah, we managed, though I nearly slept in my office so I wouldn't have to go home and then come back to teach this morning. Arthur's probably back home already and asleep again. He was pretty wiped out last night."

"Yeah, well, the end of the semester's brutal for everyone. So, no comfort sex? No I'm sorry your advisor has a death wish for you sex? No – "

"What? No! No sex. None at all."

"If you offered..."

"No way."

"I just don't think he'd turn you down. All right," Gwen said when Merlin started to make a sound of protest. She sipped her coffee quietly and waited until they'd both gotten about halfway through their beverages and Merlin had marked the chapters he needed to photocopy before she spoke to him again. "Aside from absolutely not sleeping with Arthur, what else do you have on for today?"

Merlin picked up his drink again and swizzled the bag in the remaining half-cup of tea. "Research, then I might go home and sleep for a couple hours." He hesitated a moment, stared back down into his tea, and told his stomach to stop doing the weird twisty thing. "And I think Arthur wants to go grocery shopping."

"Oh, my god. Why aren't you two sleeping together? You're practically married already."

"Oh, stop. You know what he's like."

"Co-dependent?"

Merlin shrugged. "Only with the grocery shopping."

"Right." Gwen looked like she was going to say something about that, then changed her mind and reached over to rub Merlin's shoulder again. "We're having pasta and television night at our place today. Just me and Morgana, and you, if you want to come. If you're not too tired later on."

"I might do that if Arthur's too busy. Usually he and I have dinner on Fridays, but I'll text you, all right?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I should go since I've got students arriving. I'll see you later, maybe." Gwen got up to leave and turned back to grin at Merlin when his phone vibrated. "Tell Arthur I said hi."

"You don't know it's from him!"

Merlin could hear Gwen's laugh from down the hall. He flipped his phone open to read the text:

_...?_

Which, of course, was Arthur-speak for 'where are you and how long are you going to be there?'

Merlin texted back 'office,' got '...' as a reply from Arthur. He sent back another ellipsis in reply just to irritate Arthur. It took ten minutes, but he finally texted Merlin back to ask him if they could do dinner, then grocery shopping, instead of the other way around.

The funny twist was back in Merlin's stomach as he texted back that the revised Friday schedule was fine. He pushed it away, ignored it, and set himself to getting as much research and paper grading done as he could before going to Arthur's later on.

~

Arthur had the shirt and tie on he'd worn into work earlier that day, though he'd left his shoes by the sofa and draped his jacket over the armrest. There were some books and folders on the coffee table and a book open on Arthur's chest, but it was pretty obvious he wasn't actually reading it. In fact, it was obvious that, until Merlin had let himself into his place, Arthur hadn't even been awake.

"Hey." Arthur smiled a little when he looked up at Merlin from where he was stretched out on the sofa. "Aren't you early?"

"Actually, I'm late. Didn't you get my texts?" Merlin left his messenger bag and shoes next to Arthur's and his coat and scarf on the sofa behind Arthur.

"I guess not? Hold on." Arthur patted his trouser pocket, looked confused for a second, then reached over to move a folder and rescue his phone. "Sorry, I guess I really did miss them."

"You mean you slept through them, right?"

Arthur looked sheepish. His voice was rough, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the day; it wasn't too hard to figure out that he was getting sick. Probably something he picked up from his students or on the plane home from the conference he'd attended last weekend.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't make any difference now. I just had a stack of in-class writings I wanted to get through before coming over." Merlin brushed the palm of his hand over Arthur's rumpled hair and headed towards the kitchen.

He started boiling water for tea and poked through Arthur's fridge. Usually, if they stayed in for dinner on a Friday, it meant that one of them were going to cook, and if somebody cooked, it was usually Arthur. Tonight, however, he really didn't look up to it, and besides, they'd gotten used to Friday night being the one night they didn't have to figure out what they could possibly make for dinner.

There were some dubious looking leftovers in the fridge that Merlin didn't really feel like eating. Which was completely unlike Arthur, who tended to keep his fridge neat and free of odd containers of unidentifiable food. Which probably meant that Arthur wouldn't want to eat any of the leftovers, either. He wasn't really a picky eater, except when he got sick. They could do take-out tonight, Merlin decided, and went in search of Tylenol to give Arthur.

Who was standing in the kitchen when Merlin got back from his trip to the medicine cabinet. Well, no, not so much standing as leaning against the counter and blowing his nose into a handkerchief. Merlin didn't even know anyone else under the age of fifty who used a handkerchief for anything. Only Arthur. The thought send a swell of affection through Merlin and he had to make a real effort to not reach out and rub Arthur's shoulder or touch his hair again.

"All right? You sound kind of rough."

Arthur nodded. "I think I'm just coming down with something. My head..." He wiped his nose with the cloth and pinched the bridge between his thumb and index finger. "Ugh."

"Your sinuses?"

Arthur nodded again and this time Merlin didn't stop himself from at least touching Arthur's arm.

"You always get sick this time of year." Hand still on Arthur's arm, Merlin paused and wondered if maybe touching him and saying that was a little too familiar. But, no, Arthur just leaned into the touch and nodded once more.

He glanced at the counter and back at Merlin with a trace of a smile on his lips. "You brought me the Tylenol?"

"Oh, yeah. Here, take some. With your tea. Then we should get something for dinner." Merlin poured hot water into two mugs, handed one to Arthur, then leaned against the kitchen counter next to Arthur.

"I'm not really hungry."

"Yeah, I know. But I am. Besides, we had dinner plans. There were expectations."

Arthur smiled into his tea and brushed his leg against Merlin's. It wasn't, you know, much of a smile or even very much contact, but it was comfortable. "God forbid I disappoint you."

God. Gwen was right. They really were practically married. Merlin knew exactly what was going to happen. They'd stand here and drink tea for a while, then they'd look at the take-out menus, which was a useless exercise because Arthur was _getting sick_, and Merlin also knew that meant he wouldn't want to eat anything, so he'd have to be decisive for both of them and get either Thai or Indian, something with protein and vegetables to go with the soup he knew Arthur would eat, and Arthur would look uncertain but grateful and hand Merlin his wallet before going to change out of his work clothes and lie down on the sofa again, and Merlin would order and pay and turn on the television.

"Right." Merlin gave Arthur a gentle shove. "I'll work my take-out ordering magic to make supper appear. You go rest."

"Are you sure? I can do it." Arthur put his tea on the counter to pull out his wallet. Before opening it, he turned to the side to cough into his elbow and ended up just handing his wallet to Merlin so he could reach up and rub his face.

"It's fine. Thanks. On your debit, right?" Merlin put Arthur's wallet into his jeans pocket and took a drink from his now cooled-off tea.

The little smile appeared on Arthur's face again. "We're going to grow old and predictable together."

Merlin decided then and there that Arthur had absolutely no right to be that attractive and likable when he was so tousled and scratchy-voiced, so he handed Arthur back his tea, gave him another shove, and told him to change into something more invalid-appropriate.

~

The last couple weeks of the semester passed in a blur of papers, both his own and his students', and Merlin was ready to never ever read anything again after spending twelve hours researching for his critical methods essay. Between grading and writing, there were a few parties in the department and Merlin got amazingly, happily drunk with Gwen and Morgana the night before he had to input grades for his students. Arthur was less than sympathetic, since he was, as he claimed, a model of efficiency and already had his grades done, but he brought Merlin coffee and aspirin and checked his grade sheet before watching while Merlin submitted it online.

"Thanks," Merlin said, closing his hands around the cup of coffee, and curled up in front of the computer. "You're actually good at this not letting me fail miserably thing."

"Yes, well." Arthur glanced away and looked embarrassed for a second. "You were good at making sure I didn't catch some alien death cold."

"Mm. That was no trouble. I like..." Merlin stopped. "I like being able to help you out. Or look after you. Or make sure you look after yourself. And I like it when you do the same for me," he finally added in a rush of words.

Arthur's hand rested on Merlin's knee, his thumb pressing a warm circle against Merlin's faded cords, and slid up his leg. When he leaned into Merlin, he did it so slowly, so carefully, so stupidly, needlessly, gently, that Merlin had to tug him in close.

"Come have dinner at my place tonight?" Arthur asked, his forehead touching to Merlin's.

"Sure. Of course." Arthur's lips touched Merlin's cheek, then his mouth, and Merlin placed his coffee on the computer desk before tugging Arthur in even more near to kiss him fully. "Of course," he said again, smiling to feel the weight of Arthur's arm around his shoulders.

"Good." Arthur kissed him again, a little hesitant yet, then opened his mouth to Merlin's with a small groan of relief. "God, finally..."

They walked back from campus through a light, icy rain to Arthur's apartment that evening and Merlin learned all the things he thought he'd never be able to let go – the Thursdays in the library or at the bar, the Fridays buying groceries and eating dinner, the morning coffee Arthur was so proud to bring him and the quiet, shared conversations in their office after class – were his to keep.

And he learned how his hand curved around the back of Arthur's neck and how stroking the hair at the nape of Arthur's neck was the easiest way to get Arthur to kiss him harder. He learned how to slide Arthur's tie off for him, and how to brush his mouth over Arthur's while they talked so they would end up half-kissing, half-talking. He learned the soft sound of Arthur's breath when he sighed with pleasure and the catch of it when he got needy and wanted to just kiss and kiss Merlin.

~

"I should probably get going," Merlin said, and realized, at the same time, how incredibly reluctant he was to get out of Arthur's car. The freezing rain traced little crystal patterns on the windshield before the car's heater caused it to melt and drip down the front of the window.

"Probably. You have a few minutes, though." Arthur's voice had gone low and quiet. Merlin glanced at him to see that he, too, was staring out at the icy grey parking lot of the bus station, and glanced back to watch another of the crystals detach itself from the ice at the corner of the window and slide down silently.

They sat for those few minutes, the sound of the car's heater and the radio just below that of their breathing and the few, murmured comments Arthur made about the weather causing delays and how it would take Merlin longer to get back home than they'd originally thought it would.

"Now you do really need to go." Still soft, Arthur's words came out in what was almost a sigh and he reached over to rest a hand on Merlin's leg before Merlin could unbuckle his seat belt. "Let me know when you get back and settled, all right?"

"Yeah, I can do that. I'll text you."

"Or call. It's just Father and I at home tonight."

"The Pendragon family won't have gathered at the ancestral estate?"

"Not for a few days. Call me, really. "

Merlin looked down at the hand resting on his leg, and thought of how Arthur was the only person he knew who was actually awake this early in the morning to drive him to the bus station, and of how Arthur had proofread Merlin's seminar papers before he sat down to edit his own, and of how worried Arthur had been about the two students who might be failing his class. And he thought of how warm it was in Arthur's car, the scent of the sharp winter air mingling with that of Arthur's coffee every so often, how much warmer Arthur's hand was when Merlin rested his palm over it, and how, if neither of them had anywhere else to go, he could stay here in Arthur's car and they could keep talking about their families and the Chaucer manuscripts and the television they'd finally get to watch over break.

And the making out. They could've absolutely spent all of winter break, curled up on Arthur's sofa, bodies tangled up under the heavy, warm fleece blanket, mouths all over each other. That's how they'd spent the last couple nights, the television a buzz in the background, Arthur mapping kisses over Merlin's face and neck, Merlin finding and re-finding all those little places where Arthur liked to be petted and didn't like to be tickled.

Merlin tightened his hand over Arthur's for a second. "I'll call you when I get home."

"Good."

There was a moment, when Merlin thought he might move closer, or Arthur might, but they were good like this for now, quiet, warm, and not moving.

A slash of icy rain hit the windscreen and Arthur moved to take off his seat belt and pop the trunk open. "I'll get your suitcase."

"Oh, you don't need –"

"Of course I don't." Arthur's smile was warm and brilliant, and he got out of the car before Merlin could protest.

After the ice and rain that seeped into his coat and down the back of his neck, the fumbling for his bus ticket and the loading of his suitcase and getting himself onto the bus, Merlin settled into his seat with the tea and novel Arthur had given him for the trip.

A few minutes after the bus pulled out of the lot, Merlin's phone vibrated.

_thought you'd never leave my car_

Merlin smiled, and texted back: _miss me already?_

Arthur replied to that with an ellipsis, then a second text: _call me later. don't let yourself forget._

_i won't. tell Uther i said hi._

Merlin got another ellipsis in reply to that. Arthur was... _Arthur_, really, and Merlin smiled again and slipped his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. By the time he finished his cup of tea, he'd read a few pages and watched a few miles of sleet-slick road pass by and was ready to curl up and doze off, warm from the tea and the time he'd spent sitting in the car.

Eight hours later, sitting on the edge of the bed in his old room at his mom's, Merlin called Arthur. And called him every day he was gone, including right after midnight on Christmas day, for a short, whispered phone conversation, Arthur's voice hoarse with sleep and Merlin's fingers cold as he stood by the window to watch the snow fall in the street.

All the rain and ice had turned to snow by the new year, the sky and ground white as they spun out behind the bus on the ride back to the university. The parking lot of the bus station hadn't changed: it was the same slick, puddle-marked grey space, this time with mounds of dirty snow around which the vehicles had to maneuver.

Merlin's breath came in white puffs once he was outside in the parking lot again and he looked around for a few moments before lugging his suitcase toward where Arthur stood, leaning against his still-running car. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his heavy grey wool coat and, when Merlin got close enough, he could see how a few snowflakes had settled on his red scarf.

"Well. You're finally back." Arthur lowered his eyes for a moment.

"I... yeah. I'm home." Standing just in front of Arthur, Merlin could see the snow that had fallen over Arthur's mussed hair and how very blue his eyes looked in the pale light of the cloudy winter afternoon.

Arthur looked up again, made a move to reach for Merlin's suitcase, and, before Merlin could realize, his warm fingers slipped through Merlin's to tug him close. Close enough that he could feel Arthur's breath on his face, could see the same half-smile on Arthur's mouth that was on his own, and close enough that, finally, after days and days of falling asleep of wanting to be this close again, Merlin could lean forward and brush his lips over Arthur's.

One hand on Arthur's chest, the other still gripping his hand, Merlin smiled, fully, and kissed Arthur again, just as fully. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," Arthur whispered against his mouth. "I think, tonight, you'll come for dinner, and then stay."

"I think so," Merlin agreed and curled his cold fingers into the warm, soft hair at the nape of Arthur's neck.

They stood in the snowflakes and cold wind kissing, and after there was a short car ride through the winter afternoon, and a shorter walk from the car to Arthur's apartment, then a rather slow walk from the door to the bedroom.

"The next time I fall for you," Merlin said and watched Arthur kiss his way down Merlin's chest to his stomach, "I'm not going to wait so long to let you know. Or wait for you to let me know."

"The next time?" Arthur nuzzled gently. "How often do you plan on doing this? I'd sort of planned on once."

"Hm. Oh, rather often, maybe. That's good," he added in a softer voice and closed his eyes.

Arthur nuzzled again, kissing the flat of Merlin's stomach, and rested his cheek against Merlin's thigh. "Good. I'll make it good for you this time, so you won't need a next time."

And that, Merlin thought, was a good enough compromise, especially when he felt the press of Arthur's body against the length of his own, and knew from the whisper of Arthur's lips against his ear that the one time Arthur had fallen for him was enough.


End file.
